


2088

by Mona_E_Lisa



Series: Teenage Mecha Ninja Turtles [2]
Category: Teenage Mecha Ninja Turtles, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Everyone grew up, Mike is a good dad, TMNT 2090, Teenage Mecha Ninja Turtles - Freeform, also no plot this goes nowhere I just felt like writing it sooooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mona_E_Lisa/pseuds/Mona_E_Lisa
Summary: Formerly titled “2090”.It was disheartening how often small children would end up in the sewers. Many left thankfully. Not because he didn't want them around, but because they had found their way back to the surface with his gentle guidance.But on occasion he refused to return a child.TMNT 2090 fic that is super late to the party.





	2088

It was disheartening how often small children would end up in the sewers. Many left thankfully. Not because he didn't want them around, but because they had found their way back to the surface with his gentle guidance. 

But on occasion he refused to return a child. On occasion, they weren't just runaways who had had over exaggerated their problems. 

The first was Frida. She bumped into him when he was out for his nightly stroll. Blood dripped from her nose, she was clumsy and lost. Very slow to react when Mike gently held is hand out to her. 

It was a different world now. He could foster children and had done so many times. There was no place other to steer this child than a hospital. She didn't speak a word other than her name and had seemed to come out of nowhere. 

"I will take her in," he had said calmly to the children services officer, not missing the way the girl’s eyes lit up. 

"Aren't you a bit old, sir?"

"You're never too old to care."

He gave her her pick of the bedrooms. She chose Raph's old room in the end. She liked the wall Raphael had painted red many years ago. It was nice to have someone in the home again. The next day he took her shopping for clothes, furniture and of course toys. She was timid initially, being very practical with her choices. It was a trait Michelangelo didn’t like to see in many six-year old’s. But he was willing to wait for her to open up and trust him enough to be a child. Many of his former foster kids and Cody, the great grandson of April and Casey, were delighted to hear that was another member to the extended Hamato clan. 

-:-

The next child was Jackson. The son of a friend of a friend who used to be Leo's student (or something like that he tuned it out honestly) he showed up at his door sneering and marched in without a welcome. The kid had bet on Michelangelo being too soft to rat him out for running away, based on an assessment Leonardo had made of him apparently. Barely two minutes on the phone with the boy’s parents and he knew the child wasn't going back. 

"You're too old for this, Mike" Leo had sighed over the phone. Mike frowned, knowing his brother had only called at the bequest of others. "Jackson is a troubled boy, I even couldn't set him straight."

"Maybe your trouble was you thought too narrow. Why make him go straight when he's happier going left?"

And it was tough for the first year, not because of Jackson. He was respectful to a fault and a bit too hard on himself. But his parents were set on steering his life a certain way, obsessive to what end Mike never understood, or neglectful with no in between. He was obedient but not without agency, and his parents stifled him as if he were some trophy only to be displayed on the mantle for special occasions. His achievements were never his, they were his parents. But his failings were all his. 

His mandatory weekend visits to his parents seem to set him back every time, returning to Michelangelo angry and unable to put exactly why into words. Eventually his parents gave up. They stopped coming to pick Jackson up. They didn't even call. They just didn't show. 

An ugly side of Michelangelo showed in the months that followed. Keeping Jackson out of the limelight as much as possible, he made his efforts for full custody humiliating for his parents. He got a call from Leonardo at one point, telling him to back off, telling him he was over reacting. Michelangelo chose not to tell his brother how Jackson cried himself to sleep over being abandoned. He knew his brother only knew the troubled, angry side of Jackson. He just hung up. 

-:-

Kusama was the perfect little girl from one of Michelangelo's kids. He was happy to have his granddaughter in his home but it wasn't without heartbreak. She was only five when a fire took her parents from her. She was angry, scarred and had no other way of showing it but crying. Frida and Jackson were eight by then and took to the big sibling roles quicker than Michelangelo had expected. Frida had always been in charge mostly because she could out run Jackson in a fight much to Michelangelo’s disdain. But Kusama quickly became something Frida and Jackson weren't ready to handle. Her sadness and anger turned into something violent and being young that translated to biting and hitting when things didn't go her way or if her emotions sent her into overload. She reminded Michelangelo of himself but also Raphael in many respects. She felt and expressed her emotions at full tilt with no filter. But where Michelangelo instinctively knew how to drain himself of his anger, Kusama was like Raphael, letting it pour out in a drowning stream. 

So, it was then he decided to teach his wayward children how to fight. Mostly to tire them out (he had two eight-year old’s and a five-year-old for the first time in fifteen years, he'd forgotten just how much energy they had and the walk to and from school just wasn't enough to knock them out). So, an hour after school he'd put them through their paces. 

Frida and Jackson got better. Before they barely stayed in the same room unless he made them, simply because they didn’t have much in common. But now they trained together, chatted happily. And Kusama calmed down, letting her frustrations out in the dojo. She was angered less now she had an outlet for her fire to burn. 

-:-

Basque was a surprise. Michelangelo knew him well as the sweet boy from the grocery store who helped him home with his groceries. He was a sweet, smart kid who was shy until you got him started on robotics then you couldn't get him to stop. Every trip from the grocery store he would sheepishly ask if he could see the mech room until his mother came to pick him up. Michelangelo had always just assumed he was the son of the store owner until the boy didn't show up for a few days.  

"Where is Basque today?"

"Who?"

"The boy who always helps me home with my groceries."

"I thought he was yours."

Well that was that. Michelangelo called his sitter, told her he'd be late. 

He didn't know where the boy lived, but he knew his favourite places. He went to the tech store, the underground game shop, even asking the police if they had any incidents involving his description. But he found nothing. He felt ill. The police wouldn't let him file a missing person’s report, no one seemed to know anything. His sitter called. 

"Hey there's this kid here. You need to get back."

Michelangelo ran at a speed he didn't know he could anymore, busting through his front door and jumping over the mess of toys that left his kids and the sitter in awe. He made a beeline straight for the mech room. And there Basque was, fiddling with a robotic leg the same size as him, eyes wide as Michelangelo seamlessly bounced over the junk lying around and pressed a hand to Basque's forehead. 

"I didn't know you could move like that."

"I’m a ninja remember? Are you ok?"

"Then why do you make me carry your groceries?"

Michelangelo knew he was dodging the question. "I never turn away an offer of kindness."

"Oh, right." Basque moved away from Michelangelo’s touch. "I should get going."

"You're not going anywhere." Michelangelo could see from the way Basque tensed that his tone was too firm. "Not until you tell me what the deal with this leg is."

"Umm."

He could see Jackson hanging by the door and Michelangelo quirked a brow just high effort to tell the boy to get lost. He was twelve now and too curious for his own good. 

"I should tell you the truth." Basque spun around and closed the door like he knew they were being spied on. 

Michelangelo knew he got the abridged version of Basque's situation that night. He could see the cogs turning in the boy’s head, deciding what was important and what he was ready to share. Michelangelo didn't push him to elaborate on why his parents "weren't great" or where the "different places" he'd been staying were. He just listened and wondered why he hadn't picked up on the boy’s troubles earlier. This poor boy who had walked Michelangelo home for a couple of years and hadn't given a damn thing away. 

"Anyway," Basque began to mumble and fidget with his hands on his pockets. "I don't want to be a bother."

"There's no such thing as a bothersome child in my home," Michelangelo said firmly. "Or anywhere for that matter. Come on, I'll show you your room."

Keeping Basque in his care was difficult. His parents were definitely _not great_ , but Michelangelo won in the end, surprising everyone with how viciously he fought. Even his brothers couldn't quite believe it. 

"What's so special about the kid?"

"Raphael, I don't like you tone."

"What!? It's a fair question!"

"It really isn't. I don't like that you'd think I'd only help a 'special' child dude." Raph hung up on him.

That was how most of their phone calls ended, Michelangelo calling his brother out on his bullshit and Raph cracking it. 

"Christmas is going to be a shit show this year," Frida mumbled to Jackson, obviously thinking Michelangelo couldn't hear her. 

"You know how I feel about that language young lady."

-:-

She wasn't wrong though. It had been years since any of his brothers had made the trip to New York. Donnie was constantly travelling around the world to talk at different universities and he never seemed to take a break. Leo was in Japan doing old man things (he thinks, Michelangelo just assumed he become a typical fuddy duddy). And Raph was who knows where doing who knows what. Since New York became "too futuristic" for him Michelangelo assumed his brother just hung around different nature reserves talking to squirrels or whatever. None of them had met his kids face to face yet, with the exception of Leonardo and Jackson. They'd had a few Skype calls but he didn't count those. And the only reason this was happening was because Michelangelo had told a small lie. 

"They think you’re sick!?" Cody gasped. "They're gonna be so mad with you!"

Cody carefully put his weapon away and followed Michelangelo out of the dojo. "That isn't what I said Cody. I told them that I had gotten sick a while ago, which is true. I just played up how bad it was."

"You had a runny nose," Cody frowned. "I mean I'm not going to tell them but."

"Look, my brothers take the fact we have a long-life span for granted. I hate that I have to lie to get them here but it's the way it is."

"I'm sorry Uncle Mike," Cody smiled sadly and looked at his watch. "Heck! I'm gonna be late for dinner, Mum will kill me!"

"Go, I'll call her for you." 

"Thanks Uncle Mike!" Cody quickly kissed Michelangelo on the cheek and ran out the front door. "Tell the kids I said goodnight if I’m back late!”

-:-

His brothers still found out somehow. Michelangelo knew the second he saw them at the airport. 

"Who told you?"

"We're not giving away our mole," Donnie said tightly. 

"Well either way I want a hug."

And he got those hugs. 

"It was still wrong to lie." Leo had said during the car ride home. Raph had insisted he drive, Mike had agreed only because he’d kept Raph on the insurance policy after all these years. 

"You have all bailed every Christmas for the past ten years, at least. Maybe you all need to think about why a little harder." He knew he was using his dad voice. He found himself using it a lot on his brothers nowadays. They never had much to say back to it. 

They finally pulled up to the garage. Michelangelo waited patiently in the elevator for his brothers to unload their luggage from the car. He noted the elevator had been cleaned in the last hour. Cody must be around. 

He groaned and squinted at the elevator walls, just as his brothers clambered in. 

"You sounded just like Splinter then." Raph scoffed. 

"Cody's home from college early today." They all lit up at that. Michelangelo keyed in the code and the door closed. He could see it had been scrubbed. Michelangelo closed his eyes and exhaled. Cody was upset about something. 

His home was cleaner than it needed to be. He had been strict with the kids the week before his brothers were due to come, making sure no toys or tech were lying around (his brothers didn't know about the mechs). But Michelangelo could smell the distinct overuse of disinfectant, something that was a trademark of Worried Cody. 

"We're home, little dudes and dudettes!" Michelangelo called out, not getting a response. "They must be down stairs."

"There's a down stairs?" Raphael asked. 

"Don't you remember? They started developing the city down wards." Donatello put down his luggage. "The lair became a duplex apartment. But I didn't think you did anything with it, Mike."

"I've had a whole place renovated once or twice." Michelangelo tried not to frown. He knew he'd told his brothers about this. "Downstairs is five more bedrooms, a bathroom and theatre." 

"So that's where the kids sleep?" Leonardo made the slightest of movement towards his old room. 

"Cody does, but the little guys are up here with me. In your old rooms." 

“Cody lives here?” Donnie asked somewhat incredulously.

"Then where are we meant to sleep?" Raph actually looked mad. 

"Down stairs?" Michelangelo blinked at his brothers slowly. "In the guest bedrooms." 

He knew this would happen. There wasn't an issue when his brothers would visit more often, he would keep their old rooms free, he also fostered children older than the ones he had now so he wasn't uncomfortable giving them space on the lower level. But they stopped visiting and the children came first. He moved himself into Splinters old room when Frida came along. 

"We aren't guests, this is our home too" Leonardo said with just enough of his old 'I'm older than you do as I say' leader tone to tick Michelangelo off. "You shouldn't have given our rooms away." 

Donatello looked bored enough that Michelangelo knew he was on his side. "The deed to the lair is actually in Michelangelo's name. We all gave up our stake, he can do what he likes." 

"Either way I'm sure you're all tired." He plastered on a smile and motioned towards the stairs. "I'll show you to your rooms." 

Slowly his brothers made their way downstairs. They were greeted halfway down by Cody, who quickly ducked his way between all of them. He rushed his way through an apology, kissed Michelangelo on the cheek and continued to floor it. Michelangelo frowned when he heard the front door slam too hard. 

"Is the kid always like that?" Raph asked gruffly. 

"Not sure what his problem is" Michelangelo said thoughtfully. "I'm sure he'll be right for dinner tonight."

"Master?" Frida called out from the bottom of the stairs. She was smiling brightly and had obviously changed clothes after Michelangelo left. "The rooms are ready!" 

"Thanks, Frida." Michelangelo steeped around his brothers and took place next to Frida, proudly resting a hand on her shoulder. "Brothers, it's nice to finally introduce you to my eldest." 

"Lovely to meet you, Frida" Leonardo smiled warmly, closing the gap between them and sticking his hand out to shake. Frida took it and Michelangelo smirked. His brothers so weren't used to kids. 

"Frida, please show Uncle Leo to his room." 

"Grandpa, you're back!" Kusama bounded down the hall with Basque following. "Took you long enough, did you take the long way?"

"No, your uncle Raph just can't drive." Michelangelo threw a sweet smile in his brother’s direction, and quickly cut off his retort. "This is my granddaughter Kusama."

"Oh yeah, you're Tia's kid." Raph said, not cruelly. But Michelangelo didn't miss the slight tension that Kusama adopted. 

"Yeah that's me," she said lowly, looking Raph up and down. 

"And this here is Basque," Michelangelo put an arm around the boy’s shoulders and showed him off proudly. 

"Hello," the boy said meekly with a small wave. "We were just going to cut vegetables for dinner." 

"Good idea dude!" Michelangelo smiled but gave Basque a look that told him to watch Kusama. "Cody's still helping, right?"

"Yeah, don't know why he's all strung out though." 

"I can handle that later don't you worry." He patted Basque's back. "I'll send Frida up in a minute."  
He directed Don and Raph to their rooms and knocked on Leo's door, asking to speak with Frida. She carefully closed the door behind her. 

"Where’s Jackson?"

"He's in his room." Frida said simply, leaning against the hallway wall. "Working up the courage I assume."

"Any idea what set Cody off?" 

"Nope!" Frida sighed. "He just came in and cleaned. Sorry I don't know more."

"Hey," he gently lifted her chin and smiled. "You're thirteen I don't expect you to have all the answers. Now go upstairs and help with dinner."

"Hai, master!"

She bolted up the stairs and Mike chuckled.  He walked down the hall to the theatre, expecting his brothers to join him soon. Their awkwardness was bemusing but he understood it to an extent. His brothers moved on and had found a new place for themselves in the world while Michelangelo stayed rooted in New York. His brothers always just assumed he'd be waiting for them like things never changed, but that just wasn't how things were. He had a family now of thirty something kids that had come through his doors. He had raised artists, paramedics, some of the brightest minds the world had seen, even a couple of super heroes. Photos of each child covered his bedroom walls and filled scrapbooks. Michelangelo was the sentimental type but that sentiment had to be shared and his brothers just didn't seem to express that anymore. As far as he was concerned they each gave their room away when the first time they cancelled on Christmas.  

"You're nearly ninety Raph. You can't just stare at me all grumpy from the hallway." Michelangelo didn't turn to address his brother, just smiled when he heard the soft shuffling of three pairs of feet. 

"This is all really well done, Mike" Leo commented almost begrudgingly, taking a seat in the admittedly worn out couch. "Didn't think you'd go for this sort of style."

He wouldn't have gone for the soft yellow walls, flat, easy vacuum carpet, or the classic wooden doors and light grey bedroom walls. But he had foster agencies to please. 

"Thinking of redoing it all. Don't have to worry about kids damaging everything as much these days." Mike tilted his head at the sound of pots clashing with the ground from upstairs. "Not down here anyway." 

His brothers began quietly chatting. He listened to them fill each other in on what they were doing. Leonardo's dojo in Japan was doing well and he had taken to vacationing around Japan. Donatello was still working hard as ever, apparently had been offered an associates professor position somewhere in Europe and was mulling it over (Mike could hear in his voice that was a lie and he had already accepted the offer). And Raphael had been doing just as Michelangelo had thought, wandering around America and seeing different sights. Just with less squirrel talk. 

"And how's April been? Haven't heard from her a lot lately" Donatello asked, finally addressing Mike. He twisted his staff a little and considered his brothers slight change of tone and how he sat up a little straighter. 

"She's the one who told you about my little lie," Mike smirked. "Cody must have accidentally let it slip and that's why he's all stressed out."

"How could you possibly know that?" Leonardo asked, still putting up an effort. 

"Nothing gets past me in this house, bro." Mike plastered on a cheesy grin and scoffed. "I'm too old and wise and blah blah blah."

“Speaking of the kid,” Raph said through clenched teeth. None of his brother ever liked it when he pulled one over them. “Since when did he start living here? Don’t you have enough kids?”

“He goes to college in the city and works at some tech company. It just made more sense.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. Cody had made himself somewhat estranged from his family. Nothing terrible, just that his parents really loved the country, minimal technology, life-style and Cody didn’t. Everyone was ok with that and Cody was working on getting his head out of the books and connecting with his family more. But Mike knew his brothers weren’t totally up to date with the family but liked to gossip anyway.

“What company?” Don asked, eyes lighting up.

“You can ask him over dinner,” Mike smiled. “He’s looking forward to it. You haven’t seen him since he was very small.”

“It hasn’t been _that_ long,” Leo frowned and crossed his arms.

“I’m back!” Cody yelled. The front door slammed shut again and Mike groaned. The neighbours were going to complain at this rate. “Crisis averted!”

“Good to hear!” Mike yelled back, happy to hear the light steps of Cody coming down the stairs. He bounded down the hall and parked himself on the arm of Michelangelo’s chair, his hair windswept and cheeks red from the cold December air.

“Sorry for running out, I forgot the bread rolls for dinner!” Cody grinned, looking at his other Uncles and nodding. “What did I miss?”

“I’ll leave you four to catch up,” Mike stood up. “I suppose someone should watch the kids.”

The kitchen situation was what he expected. Frida was giving orders and watching diligently over Basque cutting vegetables and Kusama peeling potatoes.

“Jackson is still in his room?” Mike asked quietly, nodding at his kids in approval.

“Yeah we haven’t tried to get him out,” Basque shrugged. “Figured it was better you do it.”

“Do I get to hit Uncle Leonardo if he’s a dick?” Kusama asked.

“ _Language_ and no. I’ll handle it, and don’t you go saying anything either.” Mike frowned.

“Can I hit Uncle Raph?”

“Maybe.” Mike’s frown slowly turned into a wicked smile. “Challenge him to a spar after dinner.”

“But Mike, he’s so _old_ ,” Basque whispered, eyes shifting towards the stairs. “And Kusama is unstoppable!”

“And my Raph is so stubborn that he’s immovable. Chill out, Basque.”

“Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?” Frida drawled sarcastically, but made a point of keeping her head stuck in the fridge.

“Don’t you start with an attitude, they’ll start to think I’m a bad parent,” Mike laughed. All three kids flinched to varying degrees, Frida’s small shoulder twitch to Kusama’s leaping onto the counter and grabbing Mike by the face. Admittedly that was a reckless comment.

“I’ll fight them,” she said earnestly.

“Thank you sweetheart, but no fighting.” Mike gently pried his face from Kusama’s hands.

“What’s the point of all this ninja training if I can’t fight anyone!?”

“Hop off the counter please,” Basque poked Kusama’s shin. “Mike’s gotta go get Jackson.”

Mike walked off, Kusama’s grumbling the last thing he heard before he turned his focus to Jackson’s door. He hit his knuckles against the door. Once. Pause. Twice. Pause. Once again. It was a silly knock Jackson had insisted when he was seven Mike used so he knew that it was him and not Frida. It was unnecessary because Frida rarely knocked anyway, but Mike fell into the habit regardless.

His knock got no response. Mike gently opened the door and slipped in. Only the dim bedside light was on, and the room was clean to a fault. It used to be Mike’s bedroom, so seeing the floor was always a little shock. But even this was too much. Everything was put away, not even a pen and paper was left on his desk. It looked like Cody had been through it after failing a test. Jackson was not a messy kid by any means, but this was _sterile_.

“You know he won’t come in here,” Mike said gently, casting his eyes at the lump of blankets and boy on the bed. “He has no reason or right.”

“I got caught up in Cody’s whirlwind.” Mike waited a beat for a laugh, even a humourless one but got nothing. He sat on the bed, placing himself neatly in the curve in the blankets his son’s body made. Michelangelo was rewarded slowly when the blankets curled around him ever so slightly more. “My leg hurts.”

Mike gently tugged at the blankets edge until Jackson’s face was visible. Noting the puffy eyes and sheen of sweat on his forehead, Mike smiled at his son. “That whirlwind knock you around a bit, huh?”

“My legs swollen, I can’t walk.” Jackson refused to look at him, or speak much louder than a mumble.

“Would you like your crutches?” Jackson slid further into his sheets in response. “I’m not going to make you join us for dinner.”

Maybe he had been naïve to believe that this would be smooth. Jackson had rarely talked about his short time living with Leonardo. He knew his brother had been strict but he still wasn’t expecting this reaction.

“Jackson, is there something you’re not telling me about Leonardo?”

“No!” That Jackson shot up out of bed at, kicking up his sheets. He grabbed Michelangelo’s arm tightly and talked through grinding teeth. “It isn’t like that.”

“Then please, why are you so upset my little dude?”  Mike’s gaze flicked to Jackson’s amputated limb, and it indeed was swollen. Nothing worrying but it wouldn’t be comfortable to put a prosthetic on.

“I just,” Jackson frowned and seemed to consider what he was going to say. “Look, Leonardo is a d-jerk.”

“Yeah, that seems to be the popular opinion.”

“But I can handle him, you know?” Mike nodded, his son’s choice of words not sitting well. “But do you think he still talks to my parents?”

Mike blinked. He honestly didn’t know. Who Leonardo did or didn’t associate with wasn’t his concern, and given Michelangelo’s (as dubbed by Raph, not unkindly) child stealing habits, Leonardo - for lack of a better term – cut him out of his life save for the polite but rare phone call.

And Jackson’s parents weren’t allowed near him. His brother wasn’t above spying, he was a ninja for crying out loud. And Mike knew he enjoyed his social standing enough to stoop so low.

“I suppose he might. But I’ll catch on pretty quickly and so will everyone else. My brother doesn’t have a lot of experience talking to children right.”

Jackson just nodded and looked at his crutches across the room. “I should wash up before dinner.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

-:-

They exited Jackson’s room just as his brothers and Cody came up the stair case. Mikey heard all the action in the kitchen stop, he assumed to eavesdrop better.

“You’ll forgive us,” Mikey said clearly, resting a firm hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “I’ll introduce you all formerly once Jackson has washed up.”

Raphael being the blunt block head that he was, openly stared at Jackson’s leg. If he were in reach Mike would swat him with his cane.

Donatello was thankfully more tactful. “Very well.”

Leonardo remained quiet.

Cody just chose to ignore the tension building and be embarrassing. “Do you need any help Jackson? I can give you a piggy back.”

Jackson sneered. “You’re smothering me.”

“Don’t be rude.” Mike kept his face measured, levelling a stare at Leonardo.

“ _You’re_ the one speaking out of turn,” Cody snapped, spinning to face Leonardo. Poor guy didn’t even get the chance to regret what he said. “You just don’t get mine and Jackson’s sense of humour.”

Mike didn’t move when Cody huffed and stormed over to Jackson, picking the boy up bridal style and carrying him to the bathroom.

“You’re not helping me shower you loser.”

“I don’t want you to fall.”

There wasn’t a square inch of the bathroom that didn’t have a handrail but Jackson seemed ok with humouring Cody for all of five minutes before he was pushed out of the bathroom.

“Get out, Cody!”

Or at least that’s what Mike assumed happened when Cody sulked his way into the kitchen where they’d all migrated to in the meantime. He sat on the stool next to Leonardo at the bench, shoulders loose as if the previous altercation hadn’t happened.

That was until he caught sight of the glare Kusama was sending Leonardo, then he broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Cody, you’re supposed to be running this show.” Mike raised a brow and Cody quickly stopped laughing. “How much longer?”

“Half an hour? The meats been in for a few hours, just have to roast up these wonderfully chopped vegetables!” Cody got up and practically pranced around the bench to pick Kusama up in a bear hug. “You did so well, pumpkin.”

“Unhand me before I go ninja and break your face!” Kusama demanded. Cody dropped her and pouted.

“None of these kids love me, Uncle Mike.”

“Hey! I tolerate you!” Frida yelped from the dining table, polishing forks.

“I mean, I wouldn’t pretend to not know you at a party.” Basque shrugged, polishing the knives next to Frida. The kids were putting on a show. Not the taunting of Cody, that was a favourite past time. But polishing cutlery?

Cody threw is arms in the air and yelled, before darting around the kitchen. 

“I see Mike’s dramatic flair isn’t genetic, but a learned trait,” Don said, sitting with Leonardo at the bench, a smirk stretched across his face.

“Don’t you start,” Mike pointed at Don, swiftly dodging Cody.

“Am I wrong?”

“Not the point.”

-:-

Mikey always sat at the head of the table and Kusama always sat at the first seat on his left. It was where she would sit at her parents table and it kept her quiet. She insisted Basque sit next to her, then Cody, then Jackson. Frida rolled her eyes and mumbled about being left out, took the seat directly across from Jackson. Then it went in order of Raph, Don and Leo. Mike figured watching his kids subtly mill around each other it was a planned effort to help make Jackson more comfortable and not just Kusama throwing her weight around.

Dinner was a hearty roast. It was the only thing Cody knew how to cook, and that was only because all he had to do was slather some butter and herbs on a slab of meat and stick it the oven.

Cody’s inability to cook probably came from Mike doting on him too much. But when a kid shows up to your door after taking two trains, a bus and the sky-rail at dead o’clock in the morning because home didn’t _feel right_ , it was fair that Mikey doted.

“This is wonderful, Cody.” Leonardo was polite and didn’t seemed fussed by anything that had happened earlier. Mike suspected it was because his brother held onto some sense of entitlement to authority within the lair.

Cody was having none of it, bless the boy. That’s what his brother gets for not visiting the boy since he was nine.

“Thanks. Mike’s taught me heaps about cooking.” A blatant lie. Mike tried, but Cody preferred to take the appliances apart. “He can make a much better roast than me.”

“But alas, I have clicky wrists” Mike sighed, flicking his wrists so they popped. “I’m too old these days to be hauling big hunks of meat around.”

“Grandpa, last week you beat up three guys who tried to mug you.”

“That’s a rumour, Kusama.”

“Grandpa, we were there.”

“A gossipy bunch us New Yorkers are” Mike said with a grin. Food never hit his face like it usually would when he was pushing Kusama’s buttons. She’d get her revenge later.

“Are you alright?” Don asked, eyes slightly wider with alarm. “We aren’t what we used to be. A fight could really take its toll.”

“Not on Gramps!” Kusama beamed proudly, punching him in the shoulder. “He could beat up the Justice Force if he wanted to.”

“That’s because he raised half the Justice Force,” Raph scoffed.

“Now there’s a couple of people who can cook a roast!” Cody grinned. “Silver Sentry can roast a chicken and vegetables like no one else!”

“It’s true,” Mike smiled, tilting his head when Leonardo looked at him. “It’s nice to have your children surpass you.”

 Leo nodded. It was strained like he wanted to say something, but if there’s one thing Leonardo could sense it was when he’d be outmatched in either a fight or an argument. Mike knew it would come later once the kids were in bed.

“So, Uncle Raph,” Kusama grinned, making no effort to be casual or subtle. “Wanna fight later?”

-:-

After being goaded into a spar that he lost because _“I was going easy on the kid”_ it was time to put everyone to bed. Jackson went off quietly like he usually did, Frida and Basque politely said goodnight before leaving the dojo, and Kusama put up a fight.

“Return all my presents, this can be my Christmas gift.”

“No.”

“Grandpa, if you don’t let me stay up, _I’ll die._ ”

“Do you know how many times that line has been used on me?”

“Nope.”

“89 times. And not one of those times has any child died. Now say goodnight and go to bed.”

“Uhhhg!” Kusama flailed in defeat. “You have too many kids, I can’t get away with anything!”

Kusama waved a goodnight as she stomped out of the dojo. After a moment the definite sound of her door slamming rang through the dojo. Mike got the point. Mike didn’t care.

“Kids.” He shrugged at his brothers before turning to Cody. “Will you bring us some tea, Cody?”

“Sure, Uncle Mike.”

“The dojo’s changed,” Leonardo commented as Cody trotted out of the room. His tone was somewhat sour while he glanced around the room with his mouth in a thin line. The dojo had lost all its traditional Japanese features, with the walls now smooth concrete that had been smashed and graffitied by different kids over the years. All the weapons were now stored in lockable cupboards instead of loosely on display.

“It’s nearly burnt down once or twice,” Mike let his eyes wander. He and his brothers had taken to sitting in a circle in the centre of the room. “Three times, actually. I keep forgetting that time Casey was here.”

“What I never heard about that!?” Raph exclaimed.

“Many years ago the Justice Force saw it fit to store some intergalactic weaponry here” Mike said offhandedly. “Casey was cleaning the place up for me when he happened to turn it on.”

“Was everyone ok?” Don asked, in that unsure way he always did when Mikey told stories.

“Yes of course, though the Justice Force had their egos severely bruised.”

“Papa Mike laid down the law?” Don chuckled, shaking his head a little.

“I think Papa Mike is the law at this point,” Raph grinned.

“I have many connections in this old city of ours,” Mike said in a sing song voice, eyes closed and swaying a little. “I have an honorary key to the city you know.”

“We know, we know” Raph groaned, leaning over to punch Mike’s shoulder. “You’ve only been going on about it for fifty years.”

Mike smiled, staying quiet when Cody came back in with the tea and the conversation turned steady. He was quiet for most of it, humming and harring when appropriate, happier to listen to his brothers more than anything else.

Because they would leave soon. Raphael would maybe stick around for an extra week, then visit more often now he had met the kids, but that phase would pass and he’d get sick of the city air. Leonardo would head off to Japan, settle back into his routine of polite phone calls on important holidays. Donatello would finish his Christmas break and head off to Europe, with no sure-fire date on when mike would see him again.

They were getting old. They might not see each other until a funeral. He yearned for the old days, before their mid-twenties and they started stepping out of New York’s then cold shadows. When he would see his brothers every day and not have to catch up on their lives through ill remembered snippets.

But they grew up. Michelangelo grew up. Things happened, fights were had, the world needed more than just a group on mutant ninjas to save it. They wanted different things and they went after those things.

As much as he sometimes wished it they weren’t kids anymore, and this peace they ad now, sitting in a circle in the dojo as if the last seventy odd years hadn’t happened wouldn’t last. His brothers would drift away from him once again.

And he supposed in a sad way, smiling into his tea (made just right because Cody can cook a good roast and make wonderful tea), that that was ok. He wasn’t alone and he wasn’t so small that he felt abandoned. He brothers didn’t need him anymore and he didn’t need them if he was being truly honest with himself.  

They’d moved on in the physical sense, maybe it was time for Mike to move on emotionally.

Maybe it was time to reboot the old mech suits again.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the 2090 short. One of a few gems among the sewage. 
> 
> But anywho this is my take on it. I might revisit and do more fics down the road because hey guess who has a thing about writing Mikey as a dad.


End file.
